


he's pulling at his skin; it's suffocating

by aobears



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Office Sex, Unrequited Love, man i really dont know how to tag this?, withering character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 00:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13135602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aobears/pseuds/aobears
Summary: he keeps his mouth shut because there is absolutely nothing more that he could get out of this more than he has already.





	he's pulling at his skin; it's suffocating

**Author's Note:**

> hi, this was a wip started back in what jan? i remember i was writing this while i was supposed to be studying for a chem final,  
> heavily, really heavily, as in it was the only thing i listened to while writing this, inspired by beyonce's crazy in love 50 shades version,  
> have fun folks, i did

It’s said that there’s a fine line between hate and love. Two sides of the same coin, passion with slightly different channels, so easily flipped. He hates Madara, hates him with every fiber of his being. He hates how much pain Madara has caused Hashirama, hates how much pain he’s caused to their clan. Tobirama hates how much he loves him. 

It’s now his only enemy at the end of the war; three small words that at the sight of him dig their claws into his gut and threaten to crawl out into the surface. Laughing, fighting, reading,  _ studying _ . He stops them, always, forever; he can only wear a blank face as the words tear at his throat and stop his breath, choking him until he can no longer breathe.

He cannot say them; cannot ruin what his brother has. Hashirama has worked so hard for him, for the village, doing something so selfish as taking Madara away from his brother is something he cannot allow himself to do. 

In youth he remembers hating the Uchihas for killing his brothers, remembers his father telling him and Hashirama that the Uchihas are to pay for what they’ve done to the family. He doesn’t hate them now, only one, and even then in a fucked up sense. He’d taken the brunt of his father’s ideals, been molded into the perfect child soldier Butsuma wanted to make Hashirama into. Stipulations of always family, always rules, always the hierarchy; it’s the only thing that gives him an ounce of self control. It’s the one thing he’s grateful to towards his departed fool of a father. Tobirama loves his brother, loved all of the ones who’ve died, loves them still, so he would do anything to make Hashirama happy.

He keeps his mouth shut because he’s a good brother.

Tobirama watches from a distance as his brother marries Mito for the village, and has Madara for himself. It’s a perfect arrangement that keeps the village whole and Madara from slashing Tobirama’s throat and walking out. Tobirama wouldn’t even mind, he would do it for Madara if Touka had let him.

Touka has watched Tobirama grow. She’s watched him grow and yet at the same time she’s watched him wither. Slowly, imperceptibly, she watches the strength in him leech out as the days go on after the formation of the village, as the unity and peace settle into their bones.

Touka watches as her now youngest cousin _brother_ withers away without the war and hate that comes with it. Watches him waste as the rules he’s been raised by are barely applicable, as he’s left scrambling for a future he wasn’t planning for. She can see that he can no longer pretend that what he feels for the Uchiha is anything but love. Harsh and unforgiving is this love, and it saps away the few smiles Tobirama had for her. It make her hate Madara that much more.

Tobirama is a man of war, no matter how much he assures everyone the life of an academic suits him. His innovations are for war, as many gadgets and concoctions he can make to help wire the city, get rid of mold, set curriculums, what he excels at is jutsus meant for war. For every gadget he makes he can make 5 new jutsu to pull a ninja limb from limb, lightning, water, wind, fire, earth, each designed to kill someone on the other side. He isn’t prepared for this brand of peace, for playgrounds and children and festivals. He’s planned with Hashirama, but never imagined he’d be alive to see it. He’s here, he’s unprepared, and his feelings are not for this new bud of time. 

It’s only in those rare moments, 15 minutes of Madara storming angrily into his office and choking the light out of Tobirama’s eyes that he feels at home. 

He keeps his mouth shut because there is absolutely nothing more that he could get out of this more than he has already.

Madara is heat, scorching and omnipotent, burning him from the outside in until he’s a mess of frozen heat. When with him, Tobirama can no longer feel anything else but white scorching heat, so hot the sharp pain almost feels cold. 

Tobirama feels Madara’s hands slipping over his thighs, branding a path that feels like liquid fire. He throws back his head as the fire encompasses him, and faintly he can hear Madara chuckle has hands make their way up and climb underneath his shirt, sliding up and up until Tobirama’s shirt is off. The cold air is nothing to soothe the fire Madara leaves behind. Sex with Madara is painful, Tobirama isn’t sure for which reason. He knows that that wherever the pain is lax the pleasure that emanates is electrifying, magnetic, and no matter what his conscience, or his brain tells him, he goes back to it every time Madara enters his office.

Sliding his hands into Tobirama’s hair he holds his head back and Tobirama is drowning as Madara slides his mouth up his neck, biting at the pale skin of Tobirama’s exposed throat. Tobirama is drowning in fire and he can barely breathe as he’s choked from the sheer pleasure and pain from Madara’s touch. Madara’s lips brush at the corner of Tobirama’s lips and then drift back down. He never kisses Tobirama, never gives him a sign that what they have is more than a casual rough fuck, something that Hashirama can’t give him, something that Madara doesn’t want to inflict on someone he loves so dearly. 

Tobirama is fine though. He’s OK. He’ll take whatever he can, as painful, and as blissful as it is from Madara. He lets himself stop thinking.

He keeps his mouth shut because that’s what he’s been taught to do.

The words scratch their way up Tobirama’s throat as he lays shuddering and aching underneath Madara. It’s a shock to his already overwhelmed system and his eyes fly open in panic as he almost lets them loose. His chest is tight as his own body is trying to force the words out but suffocating him. Tobirama feels the tears welling up in his eyes and as one falls across his cheek, Madara cups his face and wipes the tear away almost gently, while at the same time with a sharp thrust he fits himself inside Tobirama.

“You love this don’t you.”   
Another tear slips out and down Tobirama’s cheek. He breathes out. 

“Yeah.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hi, thoughts?


End file.
